shades of gray
by MixItUp
Summary: Thoughts on the Organization from an artist's point of view. Set during CoM. Angst. Genfic. Oneshot.


**shades of gray**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Unless I get a very unexpected Christmas present, I never will.**

It was finished, the masterpiece of the meteor shower. Hands tired, she dropped her crayon and looked up at the member who was watching her. "I'm done," she said quietly, her blonde hair falling in her face.

He leaned back in his chair as much as possible with the style. His spiky red hair flipped carelessly over the edge, and his green eyes were staring at something she couldn't see. Axel nodded, and Naminé caught something...a hint of regret?...in his eyes, but then the familiar, couldn't care less expression returned. "Terrific," he mumbled.

"May I..." Naminé hesitated. Axel was usually one of the kinder of the Organization members to her; that is to say, he wasn't like Vexen or Marluxia, always hovering over her paper with a criticizing eye. No, the Flurry of Dancing Flames just plain didn't seem to care, and that was fine with her. But this was a rather bold request that could never have slipped under the radar of one of the other members. "May I take a break?" she ventured, cringing.

"Feel free." For a moment she wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, but she decided to take her chances. She stared out at the room around her, wishing not for the first time that there was somebody else here, instead of just some of the Organization XIII members.

Naminé had learned a lot about some of the members, and yet their purpose seemed just as foggy as ever. She began to think of the ones she had met so far.

There were several members in Castle Oblivion, and all of them at one time or another had undertaken the task of watching her, even Zexion and Lexaeus, though those times were rare. Lexaeus barely spoke to her, and, like Axel, didn't really care what she did, but he had a bad temper and she knew not to cross him. She began doodling a little picture of him, just in brown, the color of his hair and his element.

Zexion would begin poring over one of his heavy books whenever it was his turn, but he still kept a sharp eye out just in case, and Naminé was wary of him, too, even though she had never once seen him with a weapon. Next to the now-finished Lexaeus picture, she drew Zexion, in midnight black.

Vexen was one of the worst, but these visits were thankfully few, since he preferred to stay down in his lab, working on whatever he had down there. She could tell that he was counting the minutes until his shift was over in making sure that she kept it up and had what she needed, and he was just as glad as she was when the next person arrived. Ice blue, for his heart and element. She drew him with his perpetual frown, and the effect was so life-like that Naminé felt a little shocked.

Then Marluxia, the flower king. She giggled a little while she sketched him in the pinkest shade she could find, and Axel glanced up from examining his chakrams. Marluxia was always trying to make sure she drew things perfectly, and he was the least generous when it came to food and other things she asked for. On his now-pink cloak, she drew a perfect heart in hot pink and tried not to laugh.

There was Larxene, of course, too. "The Savage Nymph" was her Organization nickname, and whoever had chosen it had done well. She was savage, all right, and sometimes enjoyed taunting Naminé, but surprisingly whenever they were alone she had more interest in reading or practicing with her kunai than watching, which the younger blonde appreciated. Bright, lightning yellow made her hard to see on the paper, but she felt rather proud of the hair, which she had pulled off perfectly.

And the final one...Axel. She glanced up at him furtively, but he wasn't paying any attention. In fact, Naminé had the strong suspicion that he was almost asleep, but this theory was proved wrong as he began throwing his chakrams then teleporting to catch them, his green orbs lighting up with exhiliration as the flaming weapons were tossed. He was red for sure, just like the fires that he set.

She admired her finished picture, dreading the moment that she had to return to her other drawings. She labeled each sketch carefully, then set it aside. Perfect.

Later, when she was falling asleep, she thought of the picture again. There was something wrong with it after all. The colors. Because, she realized, like her, the Organization's thoughts and actions were all in, not technicolor...

but shades of _gray_.


End file.
